Wednesday, March 21, 2018

So so so hot

As we get inches of snow, on the first full day of spring, I am thinking of a hot Summer's day towards the very end of the 60s, or perhaps the beginning of the 70s...

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when we all lived in the Valley and nobody lived anywhere else, there came upon the populace a great and fiery disturbance. This creature was called a heat wave by the King's advisors, who all muttered about the temperature and the humidity but just shrugged their robed shoulders when asked to do something about it.

Alas and alack they chorused, we fear there is nothing we can do but grumble. And grumble they did.

The eight little members of the clan, for there were only eight at the time, or perhaps even seven, records are muddled, drooped in the heat. Not even popsicles or the prospect of running through the sprinklers could revive them. They only moaned and groaned and heartily wished they were at the North or South Pole.

And then one of them, legends do not specify which one, overheard a neighbor say it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. And look, the imaginations of the clan were sparked and it was the work of the moment for them to gather around their mother and plead for an egg. This boon she granted and the children gathered near the plum tree and did crack the egg and fling its contents to the ground.

As they waited for the outcome, some thinking the egg would cook and others thinking it a waste of a good egg, the egg gently sizzled upon the sidewalk. And then the edges of the egg began to curl up and turn opaque and a great cry rose up over the land as the children rejoiced in this unusual method of cooking.

And here shall we leave them, gently squabbling over how the h*ck a sidewalk could be a cooking surface and yet allow their bare feet on it with only a mild amount of agony.


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